The Falcon and the Flower

by Virginia Henley

  Falcon de Burgh fought the gnawing need in his gut and the ache in his loins with an iron determination, yet her siren song called to him day and night. The days were Hell when he could see her, hear her, smell her fragrance as she left a room, but the nights were worse. They were endless, lonely, sleepless endurance tests. When he drank himself to sleep his dreams were so erotic they shamed him. If she was in the same room he could not tear his eyes from her. She grew more beautiful each day. She was not quite so slim as she had been and yet he could probably still span her waist with his hands. She was innocent and earthy at the same time, and her breasts were ripe and luscious.

  A new year was dawning and he knew he would not, could not go on this way. If he did not take her he would go mad; if he did not have her he would die. He shook his head and laughed at himself. If he didn’t have her he deserved to die! He was a fool if he didn’t turn their isolation to intimacy.

  He stocked his chamber with plenty of food and wine and water, and stacked logs high against the hearth. He searched his mind for the things she would need and finally sent Big Meg up to Jasmine’s chamber to fetch her hairbrushes, her diamonds, and the big oval mirror in its stand.

  “Why does he want my diamonds and my mirror?” demanded Jasmine.

  “I don’t know my lady, I only know I’d better not return without them,” Meg said.

  “I’ll see about this,” Jasmine retorted, always ready to meet him more than halfway in a fight. She brushed aside Gervase and stepped into de Burgh’s chamber. She swaggered over and planted herself squarely in front of him. She dug both fists into her glittering silver girdle and looked up. This battle she knew she was going to win.

  He succeeded in looking very innocent.

  “Why do you need my diamonds and my mirror?” she demanded.

  “I don’t need them, Jasmine. I just thought you might like to have them over the next three days.”

  “Three days?” she questioned, glancing about to see the room had been stocked with food and logs enough for three days. The hair on the nape of her neck bristled and she was suddenly aware that she was in danger. Big Meg carried in the mirror and handed the diamonds and hairbrushes to de Burgh. He set them on a nightstand beside the great bed. “That will be all, Meg,” he dismissed. The servant cast a worried glance toward Jasmine and reluctantly went out.

  De Burgh asked Gervase, “Do you have the key?”

  Jasmine’s eyes opened wide in disbelief. “You are going to imprison me!” she gasped.

  “I am,” he said smoothly.

  She struggled to make sense of it. “At the end of three days you think I will give in to your demands? You don’t know me very well, de Burgh!”

  “You have put your finger on the trouble exactly, chérie. I don’t know you very well.” He nodded to Gervase, whom she did not notice leave the chamber and quietly close the door.

  “But all that is going to change, my love. At the end of three days we are going to be sharing a bed and we are going to be very, very intimate. At the end of three days I am going to know everything there is to know about you, and you will come to know me in every sense of the word.”

  Suddenly his plan became crystal clear. “You are not locking me in alone … you are locking us in here together!”

  He smiled at her outrage.

  “You are ridiculous, sir, I’ll not stay!” she cried, rushing to the door. It would not open.

  “It’s too late, Jasmine, but it’s not too late for us.”

  “Gervase!” she called urgently.

  “He has his orders not to unlock it until three days have passed … and three nights,” Falcon added huskily.

  “You are mad,” she accused, more than a little afraid now.

  “I must have been mad to let you elude me for so long,” he said softly. “At the end of three days I want to hear you say you love me.”

  “I’ll not say it,” she defied.

  “You shall,” he said, “you shall.”

  He closed the distance between them. She would have fled, but he reached out a strong hand to imprison her wrist. With the other hand he undid the silver girdle and untied the silver ribbons at her breast. He stepped back to wait. Her hands flew to the untied ribbons. “If you fasten them you shall regret it,” he said quietly. “Undress. Take off everything.” She knew he meant it. She knew if she begged and pleaded it would make no odds. She would have to obey him. Slowly she took off her pink velvet tunic and embroidered underdress. She stood in her shift with downcast eyes, overcome with shyness. His eyes devoured her, hungrily staring at her creamy shoulders and luscious breasts.

  “I’ll be cold,” she said quietly.

  “I’ll warm you, Jassy,” he promised thickly. Jasmine feared if she hesitated longer, his hands would tear her shift from her. She might as well get it over, there was no way out. She took refuge in a deeply cushioned chair and sat to remove her shoes and peel off her stockings. Then keeping her eyes lowered she reluctantly removed her shift. Stealing a quick glance at him, she saw that he was removing his own garments. Her lashes quickly swept to her cheeks again. She sat rigid with apprehension waiting for him to pounce. When he did not, she glanced up again. Naked, he walked about quickly, picking up their discarded clothing. Then to her utter disbelief she watched him bundle it together and shove it out of the tower window. She jumped up, forgetting her nudity for a moment. “I have no other clothes!” she cried.

  “Exactly,” he said, looking most pleased. He had at last succeeded in arousing her fiery temper.

  “Do you expect me to spend three days with you, while we are both completely naked?” she shouted.

  “I can’t think of a better way for us to become intimately acquainted with each other, my love.”

  Her cheeks flamed with anger and embarrassment. It was not easy at any time to stand her ground with her powerful husband, but when he towered before her displaying his full naked strength she found it impossible. She covered her face with her hands and curled into the chair unable to stay her flow of tears.

  Falcon’s face softened. He would let her have her little cry; she would feel better for it. He made no move toward her. He had resolved that she would have to make the first move. He knew he couldn’t expect anything overt, of course, but he would watch her closely for that first subtle sign that she might welcome his advances.

  He walked over to the fire to poke it into a cozy blaze, then carefully banked it at the back with a fresh log. While he was crouched to tend the fire, she dashed the tears from her eyes and sprinted toward his wardrobe. She threw open the doors and was dismayed to find it empty. She could not even cover herself with an article of his, and worse, she realized, neither could he!

  “De Burgh, whatever will we do for three days?”

  He poured them wine and approached her slowly. “We could talk to each other … listen to each other. No lies … no witch’s tricks. Here, have a little wine, it will warm you, give you courage, stop you from taking yourself so seriously. And if I’m lucky it will bring a bubble of laughter to your lips.”

  Her hand shook a little as she took it from him. My God, she could not even breathe when he was so close. “Please, your nearness disturbs me.”

  He laughed softly and stretched out prone on the wolf pelts before the fire. “You are so innocent. As I’ve warned you before, telling a man his nearness disturbs you is just the spur to make him come much closer.”

  Now that his manhood was covered she found it easier to look at him. He raised his head and smiled lazily at her. He began to make love to her with his eyes, lingering on every lovely secret part of her. She had never been more aware of her femininity in her life. Naked and totally vulnerable, with his eyes eating her, she felt new sensations she had never experienced. Her pulses raced and she could feel her heartbeats all fluttery as she contemplated the first hesitant step along the road to her awakening.

  He loved the sense of spicy anticipation as he felt excitement stir in him �
� the tightening in his balls and shaft, the heat stealing across his loins, and the exquisitely pleasurable sensation as his shaft filled. Magic danced in the air.

  She stole a look at his well-muscled back and the long shanks of his legs stretched to the fire. He was darkly attractive enough to make any woman fall in love, with him. Jealousy flared up in her. She wondered if he had ever told another woman that he loved her. She doubted it, but perhaps that was just wishful thinking. Suddenly she wanted to be more beautiful to him than other woman had been.

  With his intent gaze upon her it was as if he read her thoughts. “You are so very beautiful,” he told her huskily.

  She shook her head, “Not anymore. I’m too fat. My baby has made me—”

  “Our baby, darling. You are more beautiful today than you’ve ever been before. Your body is luscious, perfect.” His words worshipped her and she knew he meant every word he said. Was it the wine that made her feel so bold? Suddenly she wanted to walk before him, to stretch and pose prettily and display herself.

  Again, reading her thoughts, he said, “Will you fetch us more wine?”

  She stood up shyly, but as his eyes caressed every curve, her pride took over to straighten her back, thrust out her breasts, and toss her hair about her shoulders. Almost there were two Jasmines. She watched herself in fascination to see what she would do next. She cast him small, tempting glances from the corner of her eye and reached for his empty goblet. Then she glided away from him, prideful as a cat. She knew exactly what he would say as she felt his eyes on her back.

  “Did I ever tell you that your little bottom is heart-shaped?”

  Her mouth curved into a delicious smile and she giggled. When she turned to face him, holding the two filled wine goblets, she saw that he had gotten up from the rug and was sitting in the big chair. She loved the feel of his eyes upon her as she walked a direct path to him. It was as if he had intoxicated her. She stopped just out of arm’s reach to tease him, then lifted her wine and drained it. She licked her lips with the tip of her provocative, pink tongue. She bent toward him temptingly, and as she offered him his wine, her hand brushed his in an unmistakable caress.

  “You touched me,” he said, laughing triumphantly. “Falcon!” she protested.

  “Ah, it’s Falcon now, not de Burgh,” he teased. His laugh went right inside her and made itself at home. Gently, so he wouldn’t scare her off, he reached out and pulled her into his lap. The wine splashed over onto his hand and she bent to lick it off.

  “You twist me round your little finger, I’m so easy for you to manage. I think it’s your hair that makes all men weak.”

  She giggled, basking in the loveplay.

  He set the wine aside and ran his hand up and down her leg. His eyes were stained black with passion. He dipped his head to taste her lips and she sighed deeply when he took his mouth away. “Did I ever tell you,” he said, brushing her lips, “that you have the prettiest slim legs?”

  “This all happened before,” she said breathlessly.

  “In another life?” he teased unmercifully.

  “No, remember, when I wore the scarlet gown?”

  “You were in your shift as I remember, and refused to play the game out.”

  “Mayhap I have more courage now,” she teased.

  He put his fingers beneath her chin so he could look deeply into her eyes. “And what’s this you have between your pretty legs? Did you ever tell me?”

  She shook her head breathlessly. He put his lips to her ear and murmured, “I think it’s a honey pot.” Gently he reached between her legs and dipped in one finger then he brought it to his lips and tasted it. “Mmmm … delicious!”

  “Falcon!” she protested, suffused with blushes.

  He reached again for her secret place and she did not protest overmuch. Gently he inserted his finger again and began to move it very slowly in a circular motion as if he were stirring her honey pot. His knowing fingertip encircled her tiny bud over and over again until she was squirming with pleasurable sensations. The pleasure seemed to go higher and higher in ever-widening circles of intensity.

  She slipped her arms about his neck and let her head fall back as she gave herself up to the pleasure, then suddenly with widened eyes she cried, “Oh oh oh oh ohhhh!”

  Falcon grinned with delight. “Did you enjoy that a little, sweetheart?”

  She licked lips gone suddenly dry. “Well, perhaps just the tiniest little bit,” she admitted reluctantly.

  He put her off his knee. “If you’re going to lie, I don’t want to play with you,” he teased.

  She saw the tip of his great shaft quiver. With great daring she pointed. “You’re lying now. You do want to play with me.”

  “Just ignore it and it will go away,” he said solemnly.

  Jasmine waited a moment, her eyes alight with mischief. “I don’t believe it will.”

  “Oh, yes … it will soon be dead,” he said.

  “Dead?”

  “Yes, of starvation!” He gathered her up into his arms. “Lord God, Jassy, I love you so much. I’m going to take you now, I cannot wait longer.” He carried her to his great bed and pressed her back against the pillows. He kicked off the furs, unwilling to have this act of love covered or impeded in any way.

  Jasmine soon learned that Falcon’s mouth was a formidable weapon against her defenses. His persuasive mouth was hot, fierce, and demanding as it explored her from neck to navel, and between kisses it whispered and bathed her in adoration. His hands roamed over her body, caressing, exploring, teasing until he had set up a fever of need. She lifted her arms to encircle his neck and arched her soft body against his hardness. With her eyes closed she gave herself up to him to assert his mastery over her in any way he wished. For the first time ever, she longed for the act of domination and submission.

  Then he fused his mouth to hers and she opened her lips to receive his tongue. It ravished her mouth until she moaned from its thrusts. She felt an emptiness inside her that needed filling in exactly the same way he filled her mouth. She reached for him with fevered fingers then gasped and withdrew them as she felt the size of him. Realizing her hesitation, he took her hand and guided it back. She could feel him throbbing, rearing, then slowly, together, the hands of the lovers guided the invader to its destination.

  They both knew that whatever he did to her now, she had agreed to it. With deft fingers he parted her to receive him. He thrust slowly, smoothly inside her, then held himself still to let her get used to the swollen fullness of him. Her sheath was so burning hot and unbelievably tight that he lengthened another inch once he was inside her.

  He knew this was the critical moment where she usually withdrew from him, separating her mind from the physical act of sex. It was up to him to make her offer herself as a sacrifice to the divine gods of passion. He began to stroke deeply in and out, matching his rhythm to the throb of their pulsing blood. His tongue ran like wildfire along her neck and up to her ear where he whispered fiercely, “Stay with me, Jassy … feel me … feel everything … oh, God, you’re so hot, so tight … soar away with me, love, to another world.”

  He was the Falcon. She let him take her higher and higher as he plunged deeper and deeper. He totally engulfed her until they were locked in love. Together they soared to the heights until triumphantly they shattered into a million fragments, fusing into each other, bathing each other, then floating, sailing together on a sea of bliss.

  She clung to him as if she could never bear to be parted again. This was what he had wanted, needed from her! She had submitted to him body and soul, letting him take what he needed, and now she was limp from the loving she had received, languid, drowsy, and deliciously warm.

  Falcon held her to him tightly and rolled until she lay atop of him. Her cheek was pressed against his heart, her beautiful hair spread across his chest. His strong brown hands slipped down her body until they cupped her buttocks and they drifted off to sleep, their unborn child enfolded safely between th
eir melded bodies.

  Chapter 35

  In his slumber a few hours later he missed the heat of her body and came up through the layers of sleep. For a moment he was bereft that she had left their bed until his searching eyes fell upon her exquisite beauty. Jasmine had gotten up to bathe, memories of the things she had said and the things he had done covering her with pink blushes.

  Falcon came to her immediately to begin the acknowledgment. He enfolded her in strong, loving arms but he knew a woman needed more than that. She wanted a kiss that remembered last night’s passion and promised delightful possibilities for the hours to come. His lips told her that she filled his heart and lingered in his consciousness. He knew that without the epilogue, the cycle of lovemaking was incomplete.

  She hid her face against his chest until his whispered love words aroused her out of herself, eroding away her shy inhibitions. Later he would transport her from the reality of caution and codes to a sublime paradise. He would love her until he enslaved her, encouraging her to toss and writhe and pant her way to total satiety.

  “What would you like to eat?” he asked.

  She sighed deeply. “I would like whatever you want,” she replied. He slipped his arm about her and they selected some tempting items from their store of food. They shared the same platter and the same goblet because they wanted to be one, and he scooped her into his lap so they could share the deeply cushioned chair.

  He fed her with his fingers and she sucked his fingertips erotically, sending shivers through him to that other tip at the end of his shaft. When they were replete with food they drank from the goblet, placing their lips in turn at the exact same spot. Then because their mouths had been too long apart they kissed and he fed her wine from his lips. They intoxicated each other, until their blood sang in their veins and desire built until they were dizzy from their need.